From Darkness Born
by FalconLux
Summary: Harry is wrongly convicted and sent to Azkaban. This is not a story about what he does when he gets out, but what he does while he's inside. When the world no longer matters, will Harry find something new to care about? More details inside. Dark!Powerful!Harry; Harry/Bellatrix/Severus pairing; SEQUEL PENDING
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Okay, this is something that I wrote a while back and decided to clean up and post in celebration of our favorite fictional character's birthday! As I said in the summary, it is completely finished with a sequel to come at some point in the future when I get around the writing the rest of it. Please note that Harry is DARK in this fic. Not evil, but definitely having some questionable morals by the end.

**Warnings:** Rated for language, situations and themes, and mild sexual content. No smut. Honestly, this one's right on the fence between **T** and **M**.

**Pairing:** Harry/Bellatrix/Severus, but that is a really minor part of this fic, so you don't really have to be into the pairing (grouping?) to read it. In fact, there's no Harry/Severus at all until the epilogue, and even then it's more like two partners for Harry than an actual threesome. Okay, that's all I have to say about that. Read, enjoy, and do review.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or anything to do with it. I'm not making any money from this. There. Ass sufficiently covered.

* * *

**From Darkness Born**

-::-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 1:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(28 June 1996)

_"On the charge of the willful use of the Unforgiveable Cruciatus Curse, we, the Wizengamot, find Harry Potter guilty. _

_"On the charge of two willful uses of the Unforgiveable Killing Curse, we find Harry Potter guilty. _

_"On the charge of two counts of willful and malicious murder, we find Harry Potter guilty. _

_"On the charge of torture, we find Harry Potter guilty."_

_"On the charge of five counts of willful and reckless endangerment of minor children, we find Harry Potter guilty._

_"On the charge of breaking and entering the Ministry of Magic, we find Harry Potter guilty._

On and on the list went in Harry's mind, the charges growing increasingly more pathetic even though he'd been doomed from the first. When he'd at last been convicted of the willful destruction of Ministry property and trespassing, of all things, he'd been expecting to receive the Kiss without delay. After that list of "crimes" it seemed absurd that he'd have any other fate.

But his fame, it seemed, had one last golden egg to offer. Lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban rather than having his soul sucked out of his body was the sentence they passed. Whether this was as much as Dumbledore had managed to get for him or if they were just afraid of trying to kill the one Voldemort hadn't been able to kill, Harry didn't know. It didn't really matter. Instead of losing his soul today, he'd slowly go insane due to the effect of the Dementors in that awful prison – the only person in the world knowing that he was innocent.

A dementor passed by Harry's cell and his thoughts were driven away by the awful memories that gripped him again. He ground his teeth until his jaw ached, and squeezed his eyes tightly closed while he rode through the visions again. In the back of his mind, his only thought was the question of how long he could endure this before it destroyed him.

He watched his parents die again – heard that maniac laughing and wondered if he'd sound as unbalanced if he ever again found cause to laugh. Then he watched Cedric murdered. Then Neville, Sirius, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Neville fell under that hailstorm of prophecy globes, and Lucius finished him with almost no thought to the life he was taking. Sirius fell through the veil. Ginny was tortured by Bellatrix for what had felt like hours before she was finally allowed to die. And then the worst came.

Voldemort had possessed Harry, and with Harry's hand and Harry's wand, he had twice cast the Killing Curse. Ron and Hermione had had no chance. Then came Luna… Poor, innocent Luna who somehow saw the light through the deepest darkness – who never held a grudge against her greatest tormentors. Who had looked at Harry with _forgiveness_ in her eyes at the end. Harry tortured her with the Cruciatus. Tortured her until her eyes had been as vacant as Neville's parents. She had survived, he knew, since she'd not been listed among the murders he had been convicted of committing – not that he was sure there was any real mercy in that.

What he had not known at the time was that Fudge himself had stood frozen behind Harry through most of his possession – a 'witness' to Harry's crimes. That bastard had looked almost gleeful when Harry had been sentenced. He had called it vindication that Harry had been lying about Voldemort – though of course he hadn't the stones to say the monster's name. Fudge had been so pleased with himself for capturing the next dark lord before he could rise to power.

The only charge for which Harry considered himself guilty was the reckless endangerment. He should never have gone to the Ministry, much less taken his friends along. They were all dead or the next thing to it because of him, but he'd not 'willfully' killed any of them. Not that it mattered now.

The dementor passed and Harry sagged onto the floor of his tiny, lightless cell, wondering if Dumbledore had any chance of either exonerating or rescuing him.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 43:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(11 August 1996)

Harry shivered as the dementor moved on, struggling to right his tattered mind, though he was beginning to wonder if there was any point. Dumbledore had been by that morning – the first since Harry had been imprisoned. The headmaster had not stayed long, but the message he'd given had been simple. Reading between the carefully phrased lines, he'd said that there was no chance of overturning Harry's case while Fudge was Minister. And he was currently a very popular Minister for "saving" the world from a dark lord that may have been worse than Voldemort had ever been. What Dumbledore had implied without explicitly saying was that it would probably be years before there was any chance of Harry being released.

Years. In this hell. To Harry, looking at the forty-three scratches on the wall, there was little difference between two years and eternity. He was certain his sanity would not survive the wait. If Dumbledore did ever succeed in freeing him, he'd not be good for anything anyway.

He tried to remind himself that Sirius had survived thirteen years. Sure, he may have been somewhat unbalanced when he'd gotten out, but he could have recovered with time.

And then the pessimistic voice in his head that was getting louder every day, added that Sirius had used his animagus form to survive. A form that Harry did not possess. He would never make it so long. With his still-strong guilt for the deaths of his godfather and friends, Harry wasn't sure he'd make it even one year. He wasn't sure he even wanted to.

Wouldn't it be easier to just let go? To stop fighting. His entire life had been a fight, first against the Dursleys, and then Voldemort, and the popular opinion of the wizarding world with each new piece of trash the _Prophet_ printed about him. Against his schoolmates in second and fourth year. Against the Ministry in his fifth. Now he was fighting against himself in his struggle to stay sane, and for what? If he survived this and did get out some day, all of his battles would be waiting for him. Against Voldemort and against the very people he was supposed to protect from the Dark Lord. What was the point?

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 216:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(30 January 1997)

Harry barely registered the passage of the dementor. He rarely did anymore. The nightmares they inspired were with him all the time now, whether sleeping or awake. He had few happy memories left, living now in a constant state of grief dulled only by the fact that he had no more tears to cry, no more screams to bellow. No more cries against the world that had betrayed him, the monster who'd tried to kill him, or the injustice of it all. The novelty of it all had long since been lost to him. There was no point in any of it, so he just wallowed in his grief.

No one had been to visit him since Dumbledore's one and only visit. He had warned that it may be years, but Harry had still expected his former headmaster to at least visit briefly every couple of months. For a long time, he'd told himself that he would be by any day. It had to be soon. He'd given up on that delusion. No one was coming to see him. No one but the dementors, who had become almost as meaningless as everything else on the other side of his cell door.

He often wondered if he was losing his mind. He didn't feel like he was, though he couldn't be sure. He thought it much more likely that he was simply going to go completely catatonic one day, retreat into his own mind as Luna had done, and forget about Azkaban, Voldemort, and the Boy-Who-Lived. Just forget it all.

He hoped it would happen soon. He didn't like it here, and no longer cared about anything that mattered outside the four walls surrounding him.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 491:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(1 November 1997)

Harry silently ingested the food left for him, some part of him noting the dementor outside his cell. It was lingering, for some reason. They'd started doing that a few months ago. Well, he _thought_ it was a few months ago. He'd given up trying to record time. It didn't seem to matter anymore. Every day was exactly the same, and he no longer held any delusions of his life ever becoming anything else. This was his life now. This place. These four scarred walls that he now knew better than his own face, which he'd not seen in so long.

He didn't feel like he was insane. He didn't scream hysterically, spout nonsense, or jibber incoherently as many of the others did as their minds left them. He didn't make any noise at all, actually. He didn't see the point. When food was put in his cell, he ate it. When he was tired, he slept. Most of his time he alternated between sitting on the floor against the outside wall and pacing circles around his small cell.

The nightmares no longer bothered him sleeping or awake. It wasn't that he'd gotten passed them. He no longer had them at all. Perhaps complete and total apathy was the way to defeat the dementors. If he felt nothing, there was nothing on which they could feed. Maybe that was why they liked to congregate outside his cell. They may have been trying to figure him out or to get him to feel something. Maybe both.

Like so many other things, it didn't matter.

Harry no longer thought about life outside his cell, either in the past or in some fantasy of the future. Nor even just to wonder what the world was doing out there. None of it mattered. None of it any longer related to him. His world was here, so this was where he lived, mind, body, and soul, night and day, every single day. It was where he would continue to live until his body expired, at which point he wondered if he'd stick around as a ghost. Even an afterlife was beyond his desire to contemplate at this point.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 912:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(27 December 1998)

_Three thousand nine hundred sixty two._

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve._

_Three thousand nine hundred sixty three._

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six._

Harry paused in the steps and laps he'd been counting and pacing around his little cell as he heard something unusual. So little changed in his world that anything unusual was of note. Most of the time, these unusual things involved one of the prisoners down the hall being hauled out, having died in the night, or a new prisoner being carted in. Less often, it would be a visitor to one of the inmates.

This was neither of those things. It was vaguely familiar, and he knew that it was something from his past life. From his life Outside.

He shrugged it off. He didn't care about anything from that life.

_Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve._

_Three thousand nine hundred sixty four._

_One. Two. Three._

It came again.

Harry frowned. He didn't want to be bothered. He was nearly finished with his daily four thousand laps around his little cell, and was looking forward to the nap that would follow, which would end when he was woken by his dinner plate sliding across the floor. Then he'd sit and listen to the movement and ramblings of the prisoners down the hall until he was tired and went to sleep. He did this every day, and didn't want to change it.

He was about to start pacing again when the sound came once more, and this time, it penetrated. A voice. It was a voice that he recognized only distantly. It tugged at memories long forgotten. He didn't like it. He knew, vaguely, that forgetting had been hard, and he didn't want to do it again. This voice was going to make him remember.

He tried to dismiss it, but it was getting more insistent.

"What?" he finally snapped.

Silence scuttled down the hall as the restless prisoners stilled. None were accustomed to any sound greater than the scuff of his feet on the floor coming from his cell. He was a little startled as well, honestly. It had been a very long time since he'd spoken, and the sound of his voice was strange to his ears.

"Temper, temper, Potter," the voice replied.

Harry frowned, glancing first around his cell, and then peering out into the hall through the bars in the door. There were two dementors lingering out there as there almost always were at least two, but no one else. And dementors did not speak.

"Who are you?" he asked, wondering if the speaker was invisible.

There was a long pause in which he almost assumed that the voice had either left or been nothing but his imagination. "I am Lord Voldemort," the response came at last, sounding both irritated and curious. "Have you forgotten me already?"

Memories drifted through Harry's mind, but they didn't tug at his heart as once they had. That was good. He didn't want to feel again.

"You no longer matter," Harry replied, beginning to pace again.

He was on three thousand nine hundred eighty eight before the voice returned. "Has the _Boy-Who-Lived_ finally lost his mind then?" the voice audibly sneered the title.

"Maybe," Harry replied unconcernedly, continuing to pace and count in his head. He finished his laps and sat down against the wall.

"You do not seem insane," the voice finally concluded.

"The definition of insanity is a fluid thing in here," Harry replied thoughtfully, deciding that he didn't mind this conversation. It was more interesting than the moaning and shuffling of the other prisoners.

"I imagine that is so," the voice laughed cruelly. "Still, I had hoped you would sound more broken."

"Have you taken over Britain yet?" Harry wondered idly as he searched for the source of the voice now that he was decently convinced it originated inside his mind.

Another laugh, "Not yet, but plans are in motion."

Ah, there it was. Like a wart on the inside of his skull, there was little feeling when he prodded it, but a kind of definition that did not fit the surroundings. "You always have plans in motion, Tom," Harry replied thoughtfully.

Now that he was prodding at his Voldewart, he could feel the irritation coming through it.

"These things take time," Tom replied coolly, his irritation not reaching his voice. "You were the first step, of course. And now that you are safely detained for the rest of your natural life, I can destroy your friends and your precious mudbloods at my leisure."

"I no longer have any friends," Harry replied, drawing away from the wart that held emotions he did not want to feel – even if they weren't his own. "Good luck with your war, Tom."

He then blocked himself away from that wart of voice and emotion, drifting once more into the calm that was his mind. He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the other prisoners once more.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 1,296:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(15 January 2000)

_Sixty four. Sixty five. Sixty six. Sixty seven._

Harry froze in halfway down through his sixty eighth pushup when he felt the dementors move away from his cell. Voices drifted to him down the hall. Calm, sane voices. He pushed himself back up and moved into a sitting position to listen.

"…always outside that cell. We've tried to get them to move on by, but they just go right back. Prisoners in this section never last more than three or four months."

"Except for Potter," a second voice responded. It was a distantly familiar voice.

"Except for Potter," the first voice, that of the warden, agreed. "I stopped questioning it a long time ago."

The voices ceased, but the footsteps continued to approach Harry's cell.

And then they turned around the last corner. Harry tilted his head slightly, noting and dismissing the warden to examine the man next to him. He was tall and slight with platinum hair and silver-blue eyes, the latter of which widened dramatically as his steps faltered when he met Harry's eyes. After a brief pause, he caught up to the warden and approached the cell, stopping just beyond where Harry could reach should he jam his arm through the bars.

"Potter," the blonde said cautiously.

Harry made no form of reply.

After a moment, the warden shrugged, "He doesn't speak."

"Nevertheless," Draco Malfoy replied without taking his eyes from Harry. "Give me a few minutes alone."

The warden shrugged dismissively and made his way back down the hall.

Malfoy shivered and glanced around nervously before leaning a bit closer to the cell. "Potter, are you in there?"

Harry blinked slowly at the stupid question, but didn't respond.

Draco grimaced distastefully. "You're in awfully good shape for someone who's been in Azkaban three and a half years…"

Harry's eyes were drawn to the inside of Draco's left arm, and it took him only a moment to understand why. There was a presence there that was familiar. It was magic – awareness – from the same entity that lurked inside Harry's mind. Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord. Voldemort.

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry finally asked. His voice was quiet, but Draco started badly anyway.

Silver eyes widened, then narrowed as he scrutinized Harry. "_Fuck_," he breathed finally. "You still sane, Potter?"

"Why does it matter?" Harry wondered without altering his tone.

"Just answer the fucking question, Potter!"

Harry lifted one eyebrow, bored with the exchange already. "I need not answer any of your questions," he pointed out mildly. "As you need answer none of mine."

Draco snarled silently in response. He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before glancing around as though looking for eavesdroppers, then turning back to Harry and speaking quietly. "The Dark Lord wants to know, Potter."

Harry was not surprised. "Tell him that the answer is the same now as it was when last we spoke."

Draco wasn't satisfied with the answer, and tried to press for more, but Harry had had enough of the conversation and ignored the rest of his questions, speaking no more. Finally, Draco left.

The dementors returned a few minutes later and Harry smiled slightly. Their presence was relaxing in an odd way. He didn't question to reason for this, or the implications. He just accepted it and returned to his interrupted pushups.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 1,585:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(31 October 2000)

Harry had just finished his lunch when he heard footsteps approaching. He set his plate by the slot in the door to be taken away and turned his attention to the intruders just as they were rounding the corner, entering his corridor.

It was the warden with Draco again. Harry frowned curiously. He'd thought that he'd have heard back sooner if Tom had a reply to his statement the last time. He had no notion of how much time had passed, but he knew that it had been considerable. Perhaps there was a new question. Or a reiteration of the old.

The warden left Malfoy at the cell and the latter looked at Harry critically while the footsteps retreated around the corner. "Damn, Potter," he finally frowned. "You're in even better shape than the last time I saw you. Why aren't you emaciated like everyone else in this hell hole?"

Harry considered the question as well as the answer. He didn't really have one, honestly. He knew that he was different from the others that came and went so frequently, their sanity leaving them before their lives, and then their bodies were taken to be replaced by new prisoners. He knew that he was different. He survived where they did not. But then, he'd always been good at surviving. It had been a necessary skill from his very first memories with the Dursleys, and life in the wizarding world had only heightened that. Surviving was a part of who he was.

Perhaps that was the answer. Where the others had withered away mind and body, Harry had adapted to his new environment. His new home.

"Why have you returned, Draco?" he asked curiously.

Draco shivered slightly, as though Harry's voice disturbed him. Harry didn't know why, but didn't care enough to try to figure it out. "You're still sane then?"

"My answer has not changed since your last visit. Is your lord still insane?"

Draco bristled visibly, then shivered and cringed as a dementor passed by in the next corridor though they would not come here while a visitor was present. More's the pity.

"The Dark Lord wishes you a pleasant Halloween, Potter," Draco sneered after he'd collected himself. "He's promised to kill a family just for you tonight."

Harry stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

Draco frowned at the lack of response. After a long moment, he huffed and stormed away.

Harry waited for the dementors to return before beginning his afternoon laps.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 1,950:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(31 October 2001)

When the dementors left this time, Harry listened for footsteps approaching and soon located them. The voices were indistinct, but he recognized them. A moment longer, and he could hear the words.

"…don't know why. The dementors don't seem to bother him anymore," the warden's voice was saying.

"How is that possible?" Draco's voice demanded.

"Dementors feed on emotions, particularly happy ones, but all emotions, really," the warden replied. "I don't think Potter has any emotions left. That usually happens to the prisoners shortly before they die, but Potter's healthier than ever. He's quiet and never causes any kind of trouble. Most of the time, we hardly even know he's here."

The voices cut off as they came around the corner. This time, the warden left as soon as Draco was in sight of him. The blonde man stopped before Harry's cell and stared at him for a long moment before he spoke. "Happy Halloween, Potter."

So it had been a year since Draco's last visit. It made Harry wonder if this was going to be an annual tradition.

"So are you crazy yet?" Draco asked somewhat impatiently.

"No more than I was upon our last meeting," Harry said quietly, staring into Draco's pale eyes. He thought the other man looked… older. Somehow older than a year should warrant. But then, he wasn't sure he was a fair judge. He hadn't seen his own face since before he'd come here. The only time he saw other humans was during Draco's visits and when the other prisoners were exchanged in his corridor.

Draco straightened himself slightly as he spoke again. "The Dark Lord has something special planned in honor of your sixth Halloween in here, Potter," he said maliciously. "It will be a Halloween no one will ever forget."

As Draco turned and left, Harry smiled faintly. Sixth Halloween. So he'd been in Azkaban almost six and a half years. He'd wondered sometimes how long it had been. He hoped that this tradition would continue. It was nice to have something to mark the passage of years.

After his laps that night, Harry settled down for his time of quiet before bed, but he found himself distracted by… curiosity. He mentally poked at the vague, flat emotion, hardly recognizing it after so long. Tom had something special planned for tonight. Unlike last year though, he'd not stated what it would be.

After some thought, Harry concluded that it had been planned that way. Tom was hoping that he would wonder. That he would ask. The dark lord regularly probed at the barrier Harry had raised around his mental wart. Harry had not allowed him through since that first time, but he was curious now. As he reached for it, he hesitated, wondering if Voldemort could possess him here if he was allowed that link.

It was unlikely, Harry finally decided. His mind was many times stronger than it had been back then. Occlumency, if indeed that was what Harry was doing, was infinitely easier without such heavy emotions tugging him in multiple directions. His mind was a very quiet, calm place now that the emotions were gone. Those few he did feel, like this curiosity, were mild and lacking definition. And the dementors did not affect them – whatever that indicated.

Instead of removing the barrier, Harry let himself slip through it. Theoretically, it would give him access to Tom's mind without reciprocating that benefit.

As soon as he was through, he felt the almost nauseatingly potent emotions of his one-time enemy. He wasn't sure if Tom was really feeling that strongly or if it had just been so long since Harry had that any would have seemed so powerful.

He slid his mind along the link and marveled at the sensation as he slipped into a consciousness not his own. Internally cringing when the emotions around him came into full focus, nearly overwhelming in potency. He cautiously wove shields around himself to protect him from the bulk of these emotions, leaving him feeling them, but much more distantly.

Then he focused on what Tom was doing.

His surroundings looked strange, and not only because Harry had been in Azkaban long enough to almost forget that there was an outside world. What he was perceiving was through Tom's eyes. Oddly, Harry was now seeing the world as Tom did. Everything looked just a little different than Harry felt it should, but he wasn't too concerned for that.

Voldemort stood on a small hilltop overlooking a small village. The signs of battle below were obvious. The dark robed shapes of Death Eaters scurrying about leaving devastation in their wake.

"Happy Halloween, Tom," Harry greeted.

The dark lord flinched internally and externally in response to Harry's greeting. "Potter," he said, forcing himself to calm down. "What an unexpected surprise."

"You invited me," Harry replied.

Voldemort frowned thoughtfully, "I suppose I did. Do you like what you see?" he gestured to the village below gloatingly.

"Do you kill them for a reason, or just because you enjoy it?" Harry asked curiously.

Tom seemed to consider that for a moment. "You don't seem disturbed by this," he noted.

"I fail to see why I should be," Harry noted. "They are nothing to me."

"They no longer matter," Tom said quietly, as though in revelation. "Is there anything that you care about anymore, Harry?"

The younger wizard gave that a moment of thought. "Little," he said at last. "What exists beyond my cell and the shores of Azkaban are no longer a part of my life. Why should any of it matter to me?"

The dark lord chuckled at that. "You may not be insane, Potter, but the boy Dumbledore groomed to 'destroy' me really is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation. That was a fact he'd accepted a long time ago.

"So you defeated me once and now I have defeated you," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "Yet we are both alive. Shall we kill each other again?"

"I don't see the point," Harry shrugged. "Even were I not in prison, I've no reason to fight you now."

They were both silent for a long moment, passively watching the destruction in the village below.

When the carnage was beginning to wrap up, the village now in flames, the only survivors captured by the Death Eaters, Harry decided it was time to sleep.

"Well, happy Halloween, Tom."

"Will I hear from you again?" Voldemort inquired.

Harry was vaguely surprised to find that the dark lord seemed hopeful that he would. He smiled just a little. "Likely. There's little entertainment where I am."

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 2,315:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(31 October 2002)

A woman's familiar cackle echoed down the corridor, drawing Harry's attention from the conversation he'd been sharing with Tom. "Was Bella arrested?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," Voldemort replied disinterestedly. "My people in the Ministry kept her from the Kiss, but considering her fugitive status, there was nothing that could keep her from Azkaban. Why do you ask?"

Harry and Tom talked nearly every day now while Harry went about his usual routine and Tom carried out his world dominion schemes. Sometimes they merely exchanged pleasantries before going on with their day. Other times, they spent nearly the entire day in conversation. Harry had found the minor escape from Azkaban and the human contact – if distant – had made him feel much more human, and connected him to the outside world. He'd feared both in the beginning, but he'd discovered now that he was well beyond any danger of ever becoming who he'd been before Azkaban. Tom's company meant that his life was interesting enough that there actually seemed a point to continuing to live.

"It seems that she's to have a cell near mine," Harry murmured thoughtfully, watching through the bars as Bellatrix was led into the corridor. She was alternately cackling and screaming, trying to kick and bite the guards that led her.

"Sometimes I almost forget that you're in Azkaban," Tom mused.

"She's quite loud," Harry said distastefully.

"Don't worry, Potter," one of the guards laughed. "Lestrange won't last long here."

The guards always seemed to bring their least favorite prisoners here. To get rid of them.

"How have you not lost your mind, Harry?" Tom asked. It was a question he voiced often, and one Harry had never answered to his satisfaction.

Harry watched the guards leave the corridor, frowning at the next cell where Bella continued to alternately cackle and spout goading profanities. Then she turned her head and saw him. "'Ickle 'Arry?" she laughed crazily. "Are you still sane?" she asked, an insane gleam in her eyes.

"Far more than you, dear Bella," Harry replied, automatically using Tom's affection for her. He heard it often enough in his visits to the man's mind.

That threw her, but she was prevented from responding as the dementors returned. Three of them this time. They settled around his cell, though they did not block his view to Bella.

She shivered violently, her eyes narrowed on him as he continued to watch her passively. After a moment, she started muttering under her breath, rocking her upper body forward, then back against the wall, then forward, then back repeatedly. Her eyes never left him.

Harry watched her for a long moment. "You'll never survive if you let them affect you, Bella," he advised.

"How…?" she breathed through chattering teeth.

Harry considered it a moment. "We'll talk later, Tom," he said. "I'm going to get to know Bella." With that, he shielded their link, blocking Voldemort out of his mind.

Bella looked around. "Who…?"

"What do you care about, Bella?" Harry wondered.

She frowned at him for just a moment before replying. "The D-dark Lo-ord," she shivered.

Harry nodded his understanding. "That explains it. The last time you were here, you survived by focusing upon your devotion to Voldemort to the exclusion of all else."

"How d-dare y-you speak his n-name…" she said unimpressively.

"Shut up, Bella," Harry said flatly. "Do you want to survive here or not?"

She didn't respond, but she didn't try to scold him again either.

"The method you used before worked, but it also served to turn your devotion into an obsession. You still went insane, just in a manner of your choosing. It's actually pretty impressive, but it won't work this time."

She stared at him defiantly, her eyes seeming to ask, "and why not?".

"Because last time, you had to deal with dementors patrolling passed your cell throughout the day and night. But here…" he looked at the dementors outside his cell. Oddly, he'd learned to tell them apart by the way they felt to him. He reached out through the bars, sliding his fingers lightly over the cloak of one of his favorite dementors. He wasn't sure when he'd developed feelings of favoritism toward any of them, but he had.

He closed his eyes and relished the magic that tingled through his fingers from the highly magical dark creature. It snaked up his arm, spreading a chill into his chest that was quite comforting. When he looked at Bella again, her eyes were very wide, and locked on the place he touched the dementor.

"There are always dementors at my cell, Bella," he explained. "You will find no relief from them while you are in that cell. How long do you think you'll survive?"

She swallowed and a hint of fear touched her eyes. "How do y-you d-do it?"

"Stop fighting," Harry advised. "Let go of your fears. Embrace your nightmares. Let them become a part of you, and accept them. They hold power over you only if you allow it. Close your eyes, dear Bella, and stop fighting. Let go."

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 2,378:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(2 January 2003)

Harry ran his fingers lightly along the stone of the wall that separated his from Bella's cell. The magic of Azkaban was as old as Hogwarts magic, and at least as powerful. While Hogwarts magic had fed upon the magic and emotions of her children for centuries, Azkaban fed upon the magic and emotions of her inmates. It made for a much darker magic, certainly, but no less powerful. It was a magic that had almost become a part of Harry over the years. It was always there, surrounding him, encasing him, nurturing him.

He was pretty sure that Azkaban herself was the reason that he had maintained such health. Well, actually eating all of his meals and exercising each day certainly helped as well, but the prisoners really weren't fed enough to keep them healthy. Like all ancient magicks powerful enough to attain some level of sentience, Azkaban had her favorites. Harry, for whatever reason, was among them.

Harry felt the gentle pressure that was Voldemort prodding at his shield around the link. It was the equivalent of a polite knock.

Harry slipped a small part of his consciousness through the barrier. "What is it, Tom? I'm rather busy at the moment."

"Busy?" Tom asked, amused. "You're in Azkaban. What could you possibly be 'busy' doing?"

"That is not your concern."

"You are an annoying brat," Tom replied irritably.

Harry chuckled, "Was there something specific that you wanted, Tom?"

"How is Bella doing?" he asked, though Harry was absolutely certain that he'd not come calling just to ask that question. More likely, he'd just wanted to talk. One thing he'd learned about his former enemy this past year was that he was lonelier than he'd ever admit. It was a hazard that came with placing yourself above everyone else in the world. You just couldn't have a truly candid conversation with your acknowledged lesser.

"She's surviving," Harry replied. "I'm teaching her to resist the dementors," he explained, which was mostly a lie. There was no such thing as "resisting" the dementors. It was more like learning to live with them. But Tom didn't need to know that. "Thus far, it seems that she might be capable."

"And how is that?"

Harry chuckled. "That's a secret, Tom."

"One of these days, Harry, I am going to attack Azkaban just so that I can kill you," Tom threatened.

"Oh, but then who would you have to talk to?" Harry posed.

There was a moment of frustrated silence. "Well, it's a long-term plan," Voldemort muttered sullenly.

"Well then, I'll keep my calendar open for it," Harry replied, amused. Then he closed down the link without another word and turned his attention back to the stones beneath his fingers. He felt the inky black magic brush against him and he brushed back. "Azkaban, my dear," he said softly, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you."

He felt a sense of pleasure in return, almost as though the castle was preening beneath his words.

* * *

12:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 2,468:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(2 April 2003)

Harry smiled faintly where he sat in the center of his cell. These last four months he had devoted almost entirely to his new hobby of communicating with Azkaban. She seemed to like him, and had never fought his attention that he could tell. Indeed, the connection that he felt to her grew more defined every day. There was something truly liberating about having all the time in the world. It granted almost endless patience.

He let his magic – magic that he'd not consciously touched in years before starting this exploration – flow into that of the castle, and he felt it easily disperse through the stones and bars of his home. He could feel everything within the prison. He could count the prisoners, determine their physical and mental health, and follow the movement of the guards and dementors both.

Every time he did this, he could not help but smile. Azkaban welcome his magic into her with all the warmth of home.

He vaguely felt Tom brushing against his link, but he ignored it as he often did these days. He still enjoyed speaking to Tom, but he had other interests now. Azkaban was one. The other was still in the cell next to his. Bella had had more success in learning to live with the dementors than he'd expected. Through his connection to Azkaban, he could feel her mind becoming clearer each day. The insanity that had plagued her after her last incarceration was actually receding as she learned to deal with this one.

By embracing her nightmares and letting go of her outside convictions, her obsession with Tom was beginning to lift. She still sometimes rambled about her devotion to him, usually mentioning that she was doing all of this – she was surviving – for him. So that she could return to him. Harry had a feeling that she was trying to convince herself of that while she tried to deal with losing that obsession.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 2,680:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(31 October 2003)

"Draco?" Bella gasped as the blonde approached Harry's cell.

Her voice drew the young man up short. He stopped and stared at her. "_Fuck_," he breathed. "Aunt Bella?"

"Draco!" she beamed.

"Silence, Bella. He's not here to see you," Harry said mildly.

She pouted while Draco turned angry silver eyes on Harry.

"Happy Halloween, Potter," Draco scowled.

"You have a message for me, Draco?" Harry assumed.

Draco seemed to briefly consider his options before he spoke defiantly. "The Dark Lord is displeased with you, Potter."

"Tom is always displeased with something," Harry shrugged.

Draco's eyes bulged and Bella snickered at his casual use of that name. She'd gotten used to it, having listened so often to his side of his conversations with Tom.

"How dare you-" Draco snarled.

"Silence, Draco," Harry said mildly, a small smirk touching his lips as Draco attempted to continue speaking only to find he had no voice.

The young Malfoy's wand was in his hand almost instantly, but the silent _finite_ he attempted failed utterly.

"Do not come to my house and think you hold any power over me just because you stand on that side of the bars, Draco," Harry said with quiet severity. "Now, deliver your lord's message and leave."

Draco choked as his voice returned to him, and he stared at Harry with more than a touch of fear in his eyes.

Bella was cackling silently, her voice not yet returned.

"The Dark Lord commands that you answer him or he shall come here and speak to you in person," Draco sneered, then spun on his heel and stalked away.

As soon as he was around the corner, Bella's cackles filled the hall. Harry met her eyes and smiled briefly before returning to his conversation with the castle.

* * *

**_FYI:_**_ I will be returning to "When A Phoenix Cries: Part 2" in September. I promise that it isn't abandoned. Just a little neglected at the moment._


	2. Chapter 2

**Lord Azkaban and the Blackguard **

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 2,762:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(21 January 2004)

Tom had yet to make good on his threat of a visit, though Harry had taken to speaking to him more often. He was getting a hold on his connection to the prison now, and he did enjoy his conversations with the man. Bella could only ever hear his half of the exchange, but she always listened intently anyway. Harry couldn't blame her. It was the most interesting thing in their cell block.

Bella was doing very well. She was nearly as untouched by the dementors as he was, though she had the benefit of the fact that they were focused on him rather than her. Still, it was much more than he'd ever expected, and she was saner now than he'd ever seen her. Probably almost as sane as Harry was – however much that actually meant.

Harry's connection to Azkaban was stronger than ever. Stronger than he'd ever hoped, actually. And she was helping him learn to channel his wandless magic. Generally, even wanded magic was not possible within Azkaban, but when the very magic preventing it happened to be on your side, such things tended not to matter.

Harry's living conditions had improved dramatically in the last few months since he'd gotten a handle on wandless magic, and his many free hours with which to practice had yielded very agreeable results. He was currently lounged on his oversized canopy bed in front of the expanded window, which would look unchanged from the exterior, but allowed him a sweeping view of the island and sea beyond, the British shores just visible on the eastern horizon. He had his arms propped behind his head and his ankles crossed, eyes gazing sightlessly at the canopy above as his thoughts spanned the island. His magic was now completely integrated into the entire island, allowing him to examine it all in detail without moving from his seat.

Bella was in what used to be her cell, now connected to what had been Harry's through a broad arch in the former wall. Both rooms had been expanded to roughly four times their original size. She was sprawled across the overstuffed sofa playing solitaire and occasionally cursing at the cards that weren't "letting her win".

She had turned out to be a remarkably pleasant companion. She had killed Sirius, which would have been more than he could forgive once. He thought differently now. He liked to think he'd gained some wisdom, but recognized the likelihood that he'd merely lost some sanity. Either way, he saw now that people died in war and they had been on opposite sides. Like his nightmares, he accepted Bella for who she was and moved on.

The dementors were still gathered outside their cells. From what Harry had "overheard" from the guards when he'd eavesdropped on them in their living quarters downstairs, it had become a problem. So many tended to congregate outside Harry's cell that they routinely had to order them back onto rounds lest the rest of the prisoners be unguarded. Harry found it hilarious that he was hogging all the dementors, particularly considering how baffled the human guards were by that fact and the fact that he was still alive and relatively sane.

"Hey, Azzie," Harry said thoughtfully, "I don't suppose there's any way I could get some books, is there?"

The sensation he received in response indicated a negative.

He frowned, then responded to the castle's curiosity. "Well, apart from being a bit bored, I was never able to complete my education. While I am the next thing to untouchable here – except from you, of course, my dear – I dislike how vulnerable I would still be compared to a fully trained wizard outside this island."

Bella was now looking at him curiously, her head cocked to the side, but she didn't interrupt.

_There is the knowledge of many generations within these walls, young master. _The voice was feminine to Harry, heard only inside his mind, and yet it was so much more than a voice. It was more like a series of feelings and images that his mind was instinctively forming into words as he'd expect them.

"Really?" he asked curiously. "Where?"

Azzie drew his attention to the door of his cell.

Harry followed the silent, formless indication, and stared for a moment before his eyes widened. "The dementors?"

They were not a part of Azkaban, nor even tied to her magic, though she could control them to an extent while they were within her domain. Kind of like pets. A rather feral pack of guard dogs.

A brief series of images that didn't quite translate into words flashed through Harry's mind and a slow smile spread his lips. "The dementors," he said, this time with appreciative understanding.

Harry rolled off the bed and approached the cell door, beckoning one of the dementors forward. It glided toward him soundlessly.

Azzie flashed him some directions and he wheezed with laughter at the utter insanity of what he was about to do. "How do you know about this, Azzie?" he asked when he'd regained control of himself.

_The dementors were created by one of my founders, _she explained. _This was the purpose for which they were originally given life. They recognize you now as the leader of their nest, which is why they come. They wish to give you what they have gathered._

Harry laughed again, then shook his head. "All right. Let's see if this works," he muttered to himself.

Following Azzie's direction, he looked at the dementor nearest him – one of his favorites. "All right, Fido," he'd started naming them based on his observation of them as "pets" of the castle. "Give me what you've gathered."

Fido lowered its hood, then reached through the bars, its boney hand curling gently around the back of Harry's head, tilting it up. It opened its mouth and leaned over Harry as his mouth fell open. Rather than the _sucking _sensation he remembered from nearly having his soul sucked out in his third year, this time, it felt like the dementor was breathing _into _his mouth.

Ice seemed to run down his throat and coat his veins for a moment before a spark of light fell from the dementor's mouth and slipped into Harry's. That spark felt warm – almost too hot. Some part of him realized that perhaps the cold of the dementors was actually a means of countering or containing that heat. Then the thought was gone as that heat seared through his body and his mind spun. A second spark came before the heat had fully dispersed, and then a third and fourth followed.

Fido seemed to have ingested dozens of souls, and all were now being passed to Harry. His body convulsed by the time it was over, and he collapsed when Fido released him.

"Good boy," he managed blearily, vaguely noting that Bella had rushed to his side, and then everything went dark.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 2,771:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(30 January 2004)

Harry woke to discover that he was in his own bed. Bella was curled up asleep at his side, her body curled around his. He quickly examined his body and found that he felt fine physically, but his thoughts were a little difficult to hold onto.

Cordoning off his thoughts with his Occlumency shields, he began sorting through what was happening in his mind, and a slowly dawning sense of elated wonder filled him. His experiment with Fido had evidently gone as well as Azzie had seemed to indicate. His mind was full of new information. There was everything from primary studies through advanced, rare, unique, and antiquated spells, family names and entire trees, and much, much more.

"Wow," he breathed.

Bella stirred next to him, then started slightly and leaned up on her elbow to look at his face. She grinned widely when she saw his eyes open. "Thank Morgana you're not dead, Potter. I can't control this place like you can."

"Your concern for my well-being is touching, Bella love," Harry chuckled.

"So what happened?" she wondered.

"I've discovered that I have a taste for souls," he grinned.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 2,936:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(14 July 2004)

"Oh, fuck, Harry! Harder!" Bella's voice echoed off the stone walls.

Harry obliged, crying out in parseltongue as she clenched around him. He wrapped himself around her back, panting into her wild black hair while he came down off the high. Then he pulled out of her and climbed out of the pool-sized tub. A flick of his wrist dried him and he conjured a new set of fine black robes directly onto his body, smiling at his success.

His magic had grown by leaps and bounds in the last six months. A regular diet of souls would do that for you, though he now limited his intake to no more than one a day. As it turned out, he could specify that from the dementors when they fed him. It didn't knock him out that way, allowing him to organize the new memories into his meticulously categorized mind before ingesting the next. He was very powerful in his own right, but knowing how to channel that magic made a huge difference, as did the added power he received from his now symbiotic connection to Azzie.

He paused halfway across his room when he became aware of a new arrival to the island. He moved to the window-seat and looked down at the docks where a new prisoner was being herded onto the island. His eyes widened as he recognized the hunched figure of Severus Snape.

"Bella love," he called without averting his eyes from the approaching figures. "We're about to have company."

She all but leapt out of the water by the sound of the splashing, and crawled across the bed to his side, leaving a wet trail along his fine linens. "Who is it?" she asked exuberantly. Then she frowned. "Snape? Don't tell me we're inviting him to join us."

"And why not?" he asked, hardly caring about her answer.

"He's so_ serious_. And greasy," she pouted.

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure," Harry said dismissively, closing his eyes to shift his focus down to the warden's office. There he discovered the cell assignments. Snape was already being written in for the cell across from Bella's on the other side of Harry's. Apparently, the warden was looking forward to Snape dying quickly. Too bad he was going to be disappointed…

"Back in your cell, Bella," he smiled as he opened his eyes and moved to lean against the wall next to his cell door.

She was still pouting, but she went without further complaint while the dementors followed a silent command and fled the corridor.

"Good evening, Warden!" Harry called cheerfully when he saw him.

"Evening, Potter," the warden frowned. He hated the fact that Harry seemed to thrive in Azkaban, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. It wasn't as though he could send more dementors to try to bother him. In the end, he didn't care all that much as long as his prisoners didn't cause trouble, but it gave him the chills to see Harry Potter smile after eight years in Azkaban.

Looking into the cells from the outside, the humans would only see the glamored interior looking exactly as it should – small, filthy, and almost vacant. Harry and Bella's appearances were also affected to make them look filthy and dressed in common prison garb. Harry hadn't actually had to work either of those glamors. Azzie had done that all by herself, bless her.

Snape stumbled, his eyes wide as he looked at Harry.

"Professor," Harry nodded.

The man conjured a half-hearted sneer in response, but said nothing as he was unceremoniously thrown into the cell.

Once the warden and other human guards were gone, Harry pushed off the wall and moved over the wall between his cell and Snape's. He placed his hand in the middle and the stone rippled briefly before flowing outward to form an elegant arch identical to the one on the other side.

Snape's jaw was hanging open by the time it had settled, and his tired eyes were nonetheless sharp as they raked over Harry, whose appearance was no longer glamored. "So, what are you in for?" Harry grinned.

"Potter?" Snape breathed, somewhere between awe and horror.

"Let's have a chat," Harry suggested, waving his hand to conjure a pair of armchairs and a tea table. Another gesture summoned a tea tray from the kitchens onto the table and he sat down and set about preparing the tea while Snape slowly pulled himself up and joined him.

"How are you able to do magic here?" Snape asked cautiously several minutes later while Harry leaned back and sipped his tea.

"Azkaban likes me," Harry grinned. "We came to an arrangement quite some time ago. She's just as powerful as Hogwarts, Severus – may I call you Severus?" he didn't wait for a response before going on. "Except that she was built as a prison, rather than a school, which actually gives her even more power in some areas."

Severus was just opening his mouth to respond when the dementors returned. He shuddered and hunched in on himself, his eyes becoming increasingly haunted.

"How… how do they not… affect you?" he gasped.

Harry huffed a small laugh, "Oh, they stopped affecting me after about a year. You _can_ be magically insulated against them, of course," the poor sod who'd known that trick had never gotten to use it as he'd been sentenced to the Kiss instead of imprisonment, "but I didn't know that then. There's a certain sort of mindset that can prevent them from adversely affecting you. It's a combination of apathy and acceptance of your worst nightmares as a part of you.

"Anyway…" he sighed as he saw Severus starting to zone out in whatever nightmares the dementors were inspiring. "Rex, take the others and give us some space, pet."

The dementor bowed its head briefly before drifting away with the others.

It was a few minutes before Severus could fully focus again. "Did you call one of the dementors 'Rex'?" he asked at last.

"I named them," Harry grinned. "They're really a lot like dogs. A bit feral, but completely loyal to their master."

Severus stared for a minute. "You," he finally concluded.

Harry nodded happily.

"How did this happen, Potter?" he finally asked.

Harry shook his head, "No. You first. What'd you get convicted of doing?"

Severus scowled at that. "The Order disrupted one of the Dark Lord's raids. Aurors showed up before I could escape. Albus promised to get me out, but…"

"Ah," Harry sighed. "He's not too good with promises, is he?"

Severus eyed Harry warily before sighing. "No. The price of my freedom would have been too high, he said."

"Sounds like good ol' Dumbles," Harry nodded. "You know he promised eight years ago that he was still working on getting me exonerated. Haven't seen him since."

"You don't seem to be doing too badly," Severus noted.

Harry huffed a laugh, "I wouldn't leave here if they paid me. This is my home now, and I like it."

Again, Severus considered him. "Even with your comforts and…" he glanced at the tea, "abilities, you truly wish to remain here?"

"Of course," Harry said simply. "I have everything I need here."

"But you're alone," he reasoned.

"Not quite," Harry laughed, then tipped his head back a bit and raised his voice. "Are you still pouting, love? Come and say hello to Severus!"

He heard some quiet grumbling, and then Bella stepped through the arch. Evidently, she'd dressed since he'd last seen her, though he'd not have put it passed her to come in starkers.

Severus' eyes widened again.

"Severus, I believe you know Bella. She's been my roommate since shortly after she arrived."

"Roommate?" she scoffed. "Don't you mean _lover_?" she purred, batting her long eyelashes.

"I meant what I said, love," Harry smirked, then waved his hand to conjure another chair and summon another tea cup. "Join us."

She dismissed his mocking rebuff without comment and hurried into the chair, turning her full attention to Severus. "Has the Great Lord taken the Ministry yet?" she asked breathlessly while Harry rolled his eyes.

Severus did not miss Harry's reaction, but remained focused on Bella to sneer, "Would I be here if he had?"

Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips primly. "Perhaps he finally saw that you couldn't be trusted."

"Tom has known that for years," Harry informed her, which surprised them both.

"What?!" they asked together, apparently oblivious to that.

Harry sighed, "Of course he knew. Honestly, I am disappointed in the both of you. Tom is not stupid. He's not even insane as Dumbles thinks. Well, not too insane, at least. He's kept Severus on all this time as a link to Albus."

"How can you possibly know that, Potter?" Severus asked warily.

"He told me," Harry said simply.

Severus blinked while Bella smirked at knowing more than her former "colleague".

Harry tapped his scar. "Tom and I are connected, Severus. That's the reason I'm in here, if you'll recall. He possessed me and killed and tortured my friends…"

Severus sighed, "I thought that was what happened."

"Albus never told you?"

He shook his head.

"I can't say I'm entirely surprised. But yes, this scar forms a link between our minds and magic. We converse almost daily, and have for the last, oh… since before Bella showed up. I've even helped him plan a few raids."

Severus glanced at Bella, then back at Harry. "You've allied yourself with him?" he breathed.

Harry shook his head, "Nothing so formal as all that. We're more like… friends. In an odd way. Like we're friends for now, but we both openly acknowledge that we might decide to kill each other tomorrow," he shrugged. "Of course, I have no wish to leave, and I don't think he's dumb enough to challenge me here, so… Yeah, that probably won't happen anytime soon."

"Then you no longer care that he's responsible for the deaths of your friends, your parents, and countless other innocents?" Severus asked cautiously.

"Innocent is a very loaded word," Harry said grimly. "History is filled with tales of villains allowing the children of their enemies to live because of their innocence, only to one day fall to those very children. I, myself, am an excellent example of that peril. Had I died as an innocent, Voldemort would have been largely unchallenged in his power. But I lived to become his most dangerous foe."

"So you endorse the killing of children."

"Endorse may be a bit strong, but I don't particularly condemn it. It's good tactical sense in some situations. Of course, those same children can also become powerful allies if they are properly handled. Using myself as an example again, had I been raised by Voldemort's followers instead of his enemies, I'd have been brought up very differently and may just have become his strongest supporter.

"War is a messy, complicated endeavor, Severus. Attempting to draw up 'rules of war' is both foolhardy and doomed to failure. Different situations call for different actions. None can be considered wrong as a matter of course."

"Then the Light has already lost this war," Severus noted without an apparent opinion on the matter.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:Day 3,560:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

(28 June 2006)

"Bella, love!" Harry called as he stepped out of the tub and conjured his robes directly onto his body as always.

"Yes, Harry?" she called back, glancing up from her gameboard. It was a chess table Harry had made for her as a birthday present a few months back – he neither knew nor cared when her birthday actually was, but he figured he'd missed a few, so he called it a birthday present. The pieces _crucio_'d each other before "killing" each other with the killing curse when they were taken. They even gave tinny screams. And Harry had crafted them specifically for her so they looked like various light and dark wizards, including Voldemort as the black king. He could have used himself, but he just loved the idea of making a tinny Voldemort doll. It was also charmed to play against her automatically so Harry and Severus didn't have to be bothered with her constant nattering.

"Do you know what day it is?" Harry purred.

Her interest was piqued as she abandoned the board to stand and face him. "_You _are paying attention to the day? I didn't even know that you were aware of the current _year_."

He smirked, "I happened to notice the year on the warden's calendar when I was exploring his office several months ago. I've been keeping my eye on it since."

"Why?" she wondered.

"Because, dear Bella," he crooned, stepping closer to caress her slim waist. "_Today _marks the ten year anniversary of the day I was abandoned and cast aside by the Light."

Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly, which distracted Harry enough that he leaned in and kissed them soundly.

"I feel the need to celebrate in grand style," he breathed against her lips.

Now her eyes were burning with excitement. "What shall we do?"

His smile turned feral as he drew away from her and called, "Severus!"

"I can hear you, Harry," the man drawled in return, climbing the spiral staircase from the library on the lower level. The collection wasn't terribly expansive as Harry had only begun building it after Severus' arrival, taking glamored trips to Knockturn, mostly.

"Oh good!" Harry chirped in return. "At your age, I sometimes fear for your hearing."

Severus glared at Harry as he joined them. "You needn't concern yourself with my _age,_ Harry. At least I am _sane_."

"Sanity is grossly overrated," Harry informed him flatly. "Besides, I let you cheat on the dementors. Don't make me change my mind."

"Of course. I apologize," Severus replied easily, bowing his head respectfully.

Harry eyed him for a moment, certain he'd caught a hint of a smirk on the man's lips before he'd bowed his head, but he let it go. As he always did. Well, almost always.

"Well, regardless, I'm throwing a surprise party for my ten year anniversary as the Blackened Golden Boy. You two are, of course, invited."

Severus eyes widened and he blinked, which was a significant show of shock for the potions' master. "Who else is invited?" he asked warily.

"Oh, I'm keeping the guestbook open for now, but we'll start with our hosts." He flicked his wrist and his cell door cracked open on rusted hinges, then creaked fully out.

After just a beat of hesitation, he felt his roommates follow him out of the "cell".

Harry led the way down to the main floor while Azzie sealed all the outer doors and locked down her magical dampeners to include everyone except Harry.

As the only one in the castle capable of using magic, and having the dementors at his command, it was a simple matter to round up all of the human guards. Harry had them line up in the rather large entry hall, and smirked at the shocked, terrified faces watching him.

"Hello, ladies and gents!" Harry greeted. "I assume you all know who I am…" He waited a tick and got no dissenting comments, so nodded and continued. "To begin, I will need all of your wands." He lifted his hands and a silent accio sent two dozen wands zipping straight to him. Since it was a rather large handful, he simply levitated the bundle between his hands for a moment before directing it to a table near him. "Severus, Bella, see if you can find any that suit you. I'll adjust to the wards to allow you to use magic."

He turned his attention back to his "guests" while his companions eagerly dug into the selection of wands. Well, Bella was eager. Severus looked bored, though his eyes sparked with anticipation. "Now, then," Harry continued. "No doubt you're curious about how we find ourselves in this situation. The answer to that is a bit complicated, and I don't feel like sharing all of my secrets, so suffice it to say that it is abysmally stupid to put an extremely powerful wizard inside an ancient, sentient magical building and leave him to boredom for years on end.

"Moving on, I'm going to separate you lot into three groups. One group is going to walk out that door and return to the world beyond none the worse for wear, though admittedly out of a job. The second group is going to die, likely, quite slowly and painfully. The third group will be on a volunteer basis. This island is going to be my stronghold from now on. If any of you wish to join me here, you may ask and I will consider it. I will require an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty, but I will also grant you immunity to the dementors. Now, let's get to the sorting…"

The sorting went quite quickly, since Harry had long since created the first two groups in his mind. The warden and eight others went into the "live" group, since they had all proved to be decent people. The rest, those who had intentionally harmed the prisoners with no good reason beyond their own amusement, went into the second group.

Then the "volunteers" began to make their pleas. That took a little longer, since all but three of the "die" group chose that route. Harry turned away two of them that he _really _despised. The rest came forward, submitted themselves to Harry's Legilimency probe, and then took their Vows.

Surprisingly, when that was done, the warden also stepped forward.

Harry looked at him curiously.

The man cleared his throat nervously. "I'd like to stay as well, my lord," he said solemnly. "I've been here so long…" he shook his head, "It's my home. I have nothing beyond these walls."

Harry smiled at the man as he brushed through his thoughts. Azzie, evidently, liked him as well, which was why he'd been able to feel so comfortable within the castle. "Then take your vow, Davis," he said gently.

The man fell to his knees in relief as much as submission and happily gave his vow of fealty to the new Lord of Azkaban.

Once the eight who were allowed to leave had boarded the boat back toward the opposite shore, wandless but unharmed, Harry had his new minions – seven in all – escort the condemned into cells where they could have a taste of life on the other side of the bars before they were killed. They generally seemed more horrified by this than the simple torture they'd obviously been expecting. That brought a smile to Harry's lips. The things they'd done to the prisoners had been disgusting. Bloody sadists.

He sternly ignored all thought of pots and kettles while he waited for his minions to return.

"How long have you been planning this?" Severus asked quietly while the three of them waited alone in the entrance hall.

"Just a few years," Harry shrugged, "Did you find a good wand?"

"It will suffice for now," Severus said with a slight grimace. "A few _years_?"

Harry nodded simply. "Yes."

"Why did you wait so long?"

"Timing is everything," he smirked at the older man.

The others started to come back then, so the conversation ended. Once Harry had gathered the seven in front of him, allowing Bella and Severus to remain at his sides, he addressed them. "Now, who am I?" he asked, then answered himself. "I am Harry Potter, yes, but I am also the Lord of Azkaban. This castle, indeed the entire island is bonded to me. On this island, my will is law." So he was enjoying his power trip a bit. He figured he'd earned it by this point. "You lot are now the Black Guard of Azkaban, keepers and protectors of this magnificent fortress, servants of Lord Azkaban. Your personal histories, families, and loyalties no longer exist. This island is your home, the people in this room are your family, your loyalty belongs to me alone.

"Now, I imagine you're asking yourselves what I plan to do with you. I have, at present, no intention of becoming the next dark lord seeking world dominion. If Voldemort wishes to trouble himself with the worthless cretins that dominate our world, he is welcome to them. Whether we involve ourselves with anything beyond this island remains to be seen, but I have no immediate plans for anything of the sort after today. For now, I will be redecorating the castle, cleaning out the cells – one way or another – and gathering recruits. If any of you have someone in the outside world that you simply cannot live without, inform me later and I will consider offering them an invitation, but don't bother unless you have reason to expect them to accept. An Unbreakable Vow must be willingly given, and I'll accept no one who cannot give it to me."

He glanced back to Severus and Bella, "Yes, that includes the two of you. Severus, you were a spy for years, and Bella, I know you still have a crush on Tom."

She pouted and Severus frowned, but neither tried to argue.

"All that leaves is The Branding, as I've decided to affectionately dub it. Taking a page from old Voldie's book, I'll be marking each of you. It will be used as a means of tracking and guiding apparition as well as summoning you when you're needed. Come, Severus, why don't you go first?"

The older man grimaced faintly as he stepped forward and bared his left arm. He first gave the same Unbreakable Vow as the others.

Harry smiled and winked as he folded his hand over the space on which Tom's mark still rested. This would be more than twice as difficult as simply branding his mark, since he had to go in and remove Tom's first, but he wasn't concerned. While he was inside Azkaban, with her fathomless well of power coming effortlessly to his command, he could go like this for days.

The first thing he did was numb the nerves in his entire lower arm. It would still be uncomfortable, but at least it wouldn't be searing agony. Unlike Tom, Harry did not enjoy causing pain for its own sake. At least, he hadn't discovered any such affinity thus far. That done, he carefully dug into Severus' arm with his magic, wrapping it around Tom's magic in the dark mark and carefully severing each strand with such care that he was fairly certain Tom wouldn't even be aware of it unless he attempted to summon one of them.

Once the magic was gone, he went into the tissues themselves, removing the brand before replacing it with his own, weaving his magic into it as he created the image. When he was finished, he removed his hand and allowed Severus to examine his new mark.

It was black, like Tom's mark, in the form of prison bars with a large snake woven through the bars, it's open mouth facing out as though it might leap off his skin and strike at any moment. Harry smiled, pleased with the result, then motioned Bella to join him.

Bella's voice quavered slightly as she gave her vow, but she did it, and patiently allowed him to replace Tom's mark with his own.

The rest of the Blackguard followed more quickly as they'd already given theirs vows and had no preexisting marks.

Once that was done, Harry simultaneously transfigured everyone's clothing – except his own – into flowing robes much more impressive than Death Eater robes, even if he did say so himself. They were magically lightened to stir rather eerily with every movement, and they were more than merely black, actually drawing in the light around them to leave the Blackguard always shrouded in a tiny bit of shadow that would grow considerably more noticeable in dimmer lighting. They had no hoods nor masks.

"Unlike the Death Eaters, the Blackguard do not hide their identities," he explained while the group was yet examining themselves and each other. All eyes turned intently to him as he spoke. "We do not hide in plain sight as they do. We do not pretend to be other than we are."

With that, he transfigured his own fine robes. It was necessary, of course, that he be even more impressive than his underlings, and he personally thought he was. Rather than the fully closed robes that his Blackguard wore, his own were open-fronted over fine black trousers and tunic. And he was quite literally cloaked in shadow, the smoky blackness of deep shadow hanging in a slightly writhing mass of nearly opaque darkness.

Even Severus looked impressed. Bella looked like she was seriously wishing she could relieve him of those robes, to which he quirked an amused brow. She returned a feral smile that promised a lecherous evening of wanton debauchery. He winked at that before returning to business.

"Now that we're all dressed," he smiled, "I'm throwing a surprise party in honor of my ten year anniversary as a convicted criminal. That's today, in case you were wondering. This party is going to take place in Diagon Alley. For the most part, all you'll need to do is stand around and look menacing. If it does turn into a fight, which is quite probable, just stay close to me and be ready to follow me when I leave. Try to stick to non-lethal curses for now," he looked pointedly at Bella when he said that and she pouted in mild disappointment. "If, however, you feel in serious danger, don't risk your own lives to preserve our enemies.

"All right gentleman, and lady, of course, today, we introduce the Blackguard to the wizarding world. Do _not _discredit my high standards." He gave that a moment to fully sink in, omitting Severus and Bella from his glare since he had no doubt they would comport themselves properly. "Now, follow me."

He disapparated, appearing in the middle of Diagon Alley, followed almost immediately by ten accompanying cracks. While those on the street looked at the group with alarm, Harry took a moment to raise a powerful anti-apparition ward, then glancing back at Severus and Bella and nodded toward Ollivanders. "Get yourselves new wands while we're here," he instructed quietly.

They broke off from the group, and Harry raised his hands and brought them together in a clap that echoed down the Alley in a powerful thunderclap. "If I may have your attention!" he called, his magically amplified voice ringing for all to hear, but not so loud as to deafen. "Do not panic. I mean you no harm. My name, as you probably know, is Harry Potter, hereafter I shall be known as Lord Azkaban." He let his eyes trail over the nervous crowd, but they soon snapped back to one familiar, eager face. "You," he said, pointing at the woman in the atrocious glasses. "Rita, step forward."

She did so, looking somewhere between sickly excited and terrified.

"Record my statement," he instructed, briefly lowering his voice to a natural undertone, "If you misquote me or embellish with your loathsome commentary, I will tear your wings off, little beetle, and then I'll throw you in the darkest hole in Azkaban where you will know naught but the company of my hungriest dementors for the rest of your worthless life."

She went very pale, but nodded quickly and flicked her wand to adjust her quickquotes quill before offering him a sickly smile and taking a small step back.

Harry winked at her roughishly, then turned back to the wary crowd. "Now, as I was saying, the island of Azkaban does, henceforth, belong to me and me alone. Any unauthorized attempts to visit or retake the island will be met with deadly force," he said pleasantly.

Someone screamed and Harry turned sharply, the shadow cloak flaring and writhing more expressively in response to the movement. The crowd parted quite suddenly, people piling to the sides of the street to reveal a contingent of masked Death Eaters sweeping down the street.

Harry smirked at the sight as the Death Eaters likewise parted to reveal Tom in their midst.

"Harry!" he greeted with a smile. "I did not believe it when I heard you were here, though I, of course, had to see for myself."

"Tom," Harry nodded with a grin. "You're looking well."

"I'm not the one who's been in prison for a decade," the reptilian wizard laughed, causing at least one spectator to faint.

"Azkaban suits me," Harry replied. "Speaking of which, I'd like to introduce you to my Blackguard," he swept a hand toward the cloaked minions forming a loose circle around him.

Tom studied them thoughtfully, then nodded, "I'll admit, I like the cloaks."

"If you'll excuse me just a moment, I'm almost done with these folks."

"Oh, by all means."

Harry turned his attention back to the crowd. "As I as saying, Azkaban is mine. I have no intention of terrorizing anyone or taking over anything else. Leave me alone and I shall reciprocate." He lowered his voice. "All right. I think that's everything. I'll leave the terrorizing and taking over to you, my friend," he smiled at Tom.

"I do appreciate it," Tom nodded.

Harry smiled wider when he saw Severus and Bella appear through the crowd. "Ah, of course you remember my lieutenants."

Tom frowned slightly, "_Your _lieutenants?"

"If you want to keep your men, I suggest you keep them out of Azkaban," Harry laughed. "These two belong to me now." He extended his arm, beckoning to Bella, who came forward and leaned into his side when he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"My Lord," she said slightly nervously to Tom.

"Ah, my dear Bella," Tom sighed. "I have missed you."

The sound of multiple apparitions down the street beyond his ward drew everyone's attention.

Harry sighed, "That would be the aurors. I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

Tom nodded, drawing his wand and turning to shout some orders to his Death Eaters. They seemed mostly along the lines of, "Cause rampant mayhem."

"Let's go home!" Harry called to his own people and watched them apparate away one by one.

Harry looked up just in time to see Dumbledore appear through the crowd, his eyes going comically wide when he spotted Harry. The Lord of Azkaban gave the Headmaster of Hogwarts a cheeky salute before disapparating with his lieutenants.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took longer than expected. I decided to add a confrontation between Harry and Albus. Anyway, I hope you like.

* * *

Epilogue

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(13 September 2006)

Harry stood on his balcony and looked down on the docks where the passengers of the lone boat where beginning to approach the island.

"Why did you let him come?" Severus asked quietly from Harry's side.

"He won't be satisfied until he's had a chance to speak his piece," Harry said simply. "If I denied his request for an audience, he'd have probably done something stupid. Like attempting to storm the island."

"Would that be so bad?" Bella asked with a sly smile as she slid in behind Harry, twining her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek into his back. "It could be fun."

Harry chuckled quietly, "Indeed it could. I suppose I want a chance to speak my piece as well," he sighed. "Well, I'd best greet our guests. You two stay here for now." He turned around to peck Bella on the lips, met Severus' eyes warmly for a moment, and settled his shadow cloak around his shoulders before he turned and disapparated.

So smooth was his apparition that it was utterly silent and no more uncomfortable than taking a step across a room. There were a number of tricks for smoother apparation. Many had been mostly forgotten with time. Others had been used by just a single individual. Harry knew many thanks to his pets. His own power, particularly while on his island, helped the process considerably.

Albus Dumbledore was flanked by Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt as they made their way up the rocky shore. They all came to an abrupt halt as Harry appeared before them.

"Good morning, Harry," Albus greeted with a strained smile.

"Let's go ahead and skip the pleasantries, Albus," Harry said coldly, lowering himself into an armchair that materialized beneath him just in time to catch him. He took grim satisfaction in the way three pairs of eyes widened at the silent, wandless conjuration. "Do sit," he said with a mirthless smile and an absent wave of his hand as he conjured a stone bench behind the trio, just wide enough for them to sit side-by-side.

Albus kept his false smile in place as he sat, quickly followed by his minions. "Harry…" Albus said stiffly, his eyes filled with sorrow. "What happened to you, my boy?"

Harry stared at his former headmaster, mildly shocked by the depth of rage he felt rising inside him. He hadn't felt emotion this strong in years as Albus was bringing out in him. With an effort, he coerced his mind toward a state of calm that he was sure he'd never fully reach in the man's presence.

"I am not your boy, Albus," Harry started, his voice colder than a dementor's touch. "As to what happened… You dumped an _innocent _fifteen year old boy in Azkaban. After years of carefully convincing me that you cared, you abandoned me to live out the rest of my life within my worst nightmares. I survived the dementors by shutting down my emotions, and learning to care about nothing. If you're disappointed with how I've turned out, Albus, you've no one to blame but yourself."

"Oh, Harry," the old man breathed, tears beginning to escape his ancient blue eyes. "I… There are not words to express my regret-"

"You're right," Harry said sharply. "There _are _not words. So don't bother. As to your war… I've wished Tom good luck with it, so I suppose it's only fair to say the same to you."

"Tom," Albus sighed.

"Yes. You remember him," Harry said coldly. "Another boy you failed and discarded."

"Witnesses from the Alley said that you seemed awfully friendly with Voldemort," Kingsley noted with an edge of challenge.

Harry smiled slightly. "Friends… Yes, I suppose you could call us that. He is a surprisingly entertaining conversationalist."

"Harry," Dumbledore frowned, "When…"

"Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten my connection to Tom already, Albus," Harry said with a humorless laugh. He stared at him for a moment, then tapped his scar to emphasize his point. "He was the only one I had to talk to for a long time."

"Harry, he killed your parents…"

Harry waved a hand dismissively, "I've given up dwelling on the past, Albus. You should be grateful for that really. There are a number of crimes I could lay at your feet as well. Such as leaving an innocent baby in an abusive home and forcing him to return there. Tom may have taken my parents from me, old man, but you took my entire life from then on. You forced me to live with people who loathed the very fact that I existed. You tried to manipulate me into your perfect weapon, and then you abandoned me to the 'mercy' of the dementors. All, presumably, in the name of your Greater Good. Or perhaps you're just a sadist. Whatever. I'm not one to judge.

"As far as this war of yours is concerned, I have no interest in choosing a side. Tom is a sadistic bastard, but at least he's honest. You're a manipulative old cur bent on your own version of world domination. I almost pity the world for having to choose between the likes of you two. Fortunately for me, I no longer care about the world beyond my shores. You can all rot, kill each other off, throw a giant orgy… It is no longer my concern."

Albus was still leaking pathetic tears. Kingsley looked personally insulted. Moody looked extra wary.

"You seem to have learned a few things while you've been here," Moody said cautiously.

Harry nodded his agreement. "That I have. I've had excellent teachers." He lifted his hand over his shoulder, reached out to his magic, and Severus and Bella were abruptly flanking his chair.

Both Moody and Kingsley were on their feet almost instantly, wands drawn and leveled at two supremely unconcerned Blackguards.

Harry had to smirk at the fact that they were so much more concerned for Severus and Bella than they'd been for him. With a thought, Harry's armchair widened into a plush sofa with him in the middle. "Do join us," he said mildly.

His companions did not hesitate to seat themselves, Severus at his left, Bella at his right.

"Do relax," Harry grinned at Albus' companions, a twitch of his fingers pushing them both back into their seats.

"Severus. Mrs. Lestrange," Albus said cautiously, nodding to each.

"It's Ms. Black," she corrected. "My husband's dead. You remember killing him, don't you?" she asked Kingsley with a sneer, though she didn't sound all that upset about it.

"Hush, Bella," Harry said affectionately, brushing his knuckles lightly down the side of her face.

She leaned into his touch, but said no more.

Harry returned his attention to his audience, who were all now looking between him and Bella with varying levels of surprise and concern.

"Harry, Bellatrix killed…"

"Enough, Albus," Harry said wearily. "I am well aware of how many people have writhed, and died, and been driven mad beneath Bella's wand. The world is at war. People kill, and people die. Regardless, Bella is mine now, just as Severus is mine, and everyone else on this island. All outside the cells are bound to me by Unbreakable Vows. They would happily give their lives for me. In return, I have given them the chance to _have _lives, which is more than most have ever been allowed. More than _I _was ever allowed.

"Now, I grow weary of this conversation, so I will conclude with this. Your war no longer has anything to do with me. Stay away from me and I shall return the favor. Cross me, and I will see that you spend the rest of your days in the darkest, dirtiest hole on this island in the embrace of my most ravished dementors. Now leave my island before I decide withdraw that generous offer."

With that, Harry stood, Bella and Severus right behind him. He wrapped an arm around Bella's waist, and took Severus' arm in a gentle grip, apparating them back up to their shared suite on the top floor of the castle.

* * *

Three Years Later

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(28 June 2009)

Lord Azkaban stood atop the tallest tower of the castle – the highest point on the whole of the island. There was no moon tonight, and the darkness was severe beneath the perfect velvet sky. He took comfort from the shadows that others feared. These shadows had become his home – the darkness, his sanctuary. He'd never been comfortable in the light. In the light was pain and scorn. For as long as he could remember it had been thus, and still it was.

Harry's life had been turned inside out more than once over the years. He'd gone from the constant mental, emotional, and physical abuse of the Dursleys, to the seemingly perfect magical world, only to discover that it was no kind of perfect. Between battling the overly enthusiastic public opinion that seemed to swing him in and out of favor once or twice every year, to the more physical battles just to stay alive, to the ultimately futile battles to protect those he cared about.

The child that Dumbledore had tried to break and bend to his will had been destroyed within the walls of Azkaban, and from the empty husk that was left a man born of darkness and magic.

"Harry," the soft voice came from behind him. "It is time," he added when Harry cocked his head slightly to indicate he was listening.

Harry nodded silently, spent a few more seconds staring out over the darkness of his little kingdom, then turned and approached Severus. He leaned into the older man and kissed his lips very softly.

Severus' arm automatically wound around Harry's waist as he returned the kiss. Harry loved that about the man. No matter how cold and distant he portrayed himself to the world, he was remarkably responsive to the kind, intimate touches he had been denied for too many years.

"You will be joining me?" Harry whispered, their lips less than a centimeter apart.

"I would not miss it, my lord," Severus responded, the honorific flowing like an endearment from his mouth.

Harry licked his lips, then kissed him once more before drawing away and sweeping down the stairs, his cloak, literally made of shadows, darkened the air around him as he passed.

Severus stared after him for a moment in silent awe of the power and presence of his beloved lord. Severus had sold himself mind, body, and soul to Voldemort at only seventeen. And then he'd made the same sale again to Albus Dumbledore. He had spent so many years trapped between that pair, lost in something less than a half-life and hating them both for it almost as much as he hated himself.

When he'd been sent to Azkaban, he never could have imagined that it would be his salvation. He'd never have believed that that salvation would come in the form of Harry Potter of all people, but it had. Though he was not Harry's only lover, it was well known that he was one of Lord Azkaban's favorites. In the three years since he'd originally assumed the mantle, Harry had gathered many followers, but none had ever been allowed as close to him as Severus and Bella, who still shared his living space though they now had the entire castle at their disposal.

Long ago, when Severus had still considered the possibility of one day falling in love, he'd never have even considered sharing his love with another, but he'd discovered that he didn't mind it in the current circumstance. Harry had an astonishing ability to make Severus feel loved and special and vital even if he did not reserve himself for Severus alone. And Bella was surprisingly tolerable since she'd sworn herself to Harry. Under Voldemort, she'd been like a highly annoying, overly energetic puppy. Rabid puppy. Under Harry, she was still somewhat annoying, but she was also a real person with thoughts and desires that extended beyond her Lord.

Severus shook himself when he heard Harry call to him from the bottom of the stairs. Pushing those thoughts away, he hurried down the stairs after his lord, his lover, his love.

* * *

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"Hello, Tom," Harry smiled warmly as he met his former nemesis at the set meeting point. The Blackguard apparated in behind Harry and quickly began conversing quietly with the Death Eaters already there. Many had been friends before they'd joined Harry. Others had become friends since as the Death Eaters were the only outsiders that they generally saw on amicable terms.

"Harry," Tom smiled in response. "I assume that you wish to take the lead?"

"Of course," Harry grinned. "It is my day, after all."

Tom bowed his head slightly in acceptance to that fact. Halloween was the day Tom had claimed as "his day" for wreaking havoc on the wizarding world. Harry suspected it was half because he liked the stigma for monsters attacking from the darkness, and half because he himself had once been brought down on that day. Harry's day was the anniversary of his imprisonment. Starting with his ten year anniversary, he'd taken to attacking magical prisons on that day and snatching up the prisoners, who were then given a choice between following him and getting Kissed in most instances. The exceptions were Death Eaters, who were returned to their master if they wished it – which was why Tom was here – and a few rare others that Harry chose to release. Those rare individuals were usually those that he recognized through Legilimency as being innocent of the crimes for which they were convicted. After Sirius and himself, Harry had a bit of a soft spot for them.

Harry turned back to his Blackguard, offering them a cold smile and a slight nod of his head to indicate they should follow, then approached the prison. He lifted his hands high and the dark night grew much darker, shadows widening and thickening, writhing about him like a living beast. The tendrils of deepest night leapt forward and extinguished the torches lining the small prison yard.

The Death Eaters stopped behind Tom at the edge of the yard, waiting patiently as the darkness become absolute before them. The Blackguard flowed forward into the darkness, their lord's magic allowing them to see through it as though in the brightest moonlight. This realm of darkness belonged to them.

* * *

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It was nearly dawn by the time the last of the prisoners were sorted. Harry followed his lot back to Azkaban. After thoroughly Legilimizing all of the potential recruits, he had separated those he intended to give to the dementors from those he planned to keep. There were even two who, while not specifically "innocent" of the crimes for which they'd been convicted, the circumstances leading to their crimes were extenuating enough that he found their sentences grossly disproportionate. As a result, he was prepared to let them go free. However, given the fact that they'd be fugitives if they left, both had opted to swear themselves to him instead, which suited him quite well.

The Swearing and Branding ceremony took some time considering the forty-two new members he was adding. The other fifty-eight were already being Kissed. Only Bella and Severus were aware of the fact that Harry claimed every soul taken by the dementors, but the mere knowledge that Harry's pet dementors were the fate that awaited his enemies had kept him largely unchallenged. Tom and he were neutral toward each other – occasionally allies – and generally friends. Dumbledore, after his initial attempts to "draw Harry back to the light" had crashed and burned spectacularly, had opted to pretend that Harry didn't exist. The Ministry made a token effort to do something about his occupation of Azkaban, but they mostly used the excuse that Tom was the more pressing concern. The only time he caused problems was once a year, and then he only went after prisoners, not general citizens or aurors. He didn't even kill the prison guards if he could help it, though he did recruit those of darker heart where he could.

Despite the fact that he was more of a non-entity than anything in the everyday life of the wizarding world, Lord Azkaban had given them cause to fear the dark as the Death Eaters never had.

When all was done at last, Harry wrapped one arm around Bella's waist and laced the fingers of his other hand through Severus', then walked straight toward the nearest wall. It reformed into an archway at his approach and he stepped through directly from the first floor audience hall to the tenth floor master suite. The arch sealed behind him.

Harry kissed first Bella and then Severus before walking into his study alone and closing the door behind him. He sat down behind his desk and rubbed his tired eyes, stifling a yawn while he conjured a fresh ream of paper and started files on all of his new recruits. When he was finished with them, each would be self-updating and impossible for anyone but himself, Severus, and Bella to read. They would keep track of all kinds of details for him. Things like the blood family of each, so he'd know if one had an illegitimate child, or if a family member was killed. The Blackguard gave up their lives outside when they took his mark, but that didn't mean that they couldn't have lives. Many had spouses, siblings, and/or children living on the island.

The files would also keep track of anything Outside that pertained to them. Newspaper articles bearing their names would automatically be added to the files and an alert posted so that he'd know. Everything the Ministry had on them would also be added, and any warrants updated.

It was an extremely useful bit of magic he'd learned from some poor bloke who'd been convicted of a slew of crimes resultant of his magical spying. He'd been kissed almost five hundred years ago. The spells he'd used to spy had been stolen by the Ministry and had led to the Trace among many other magicks inconvenient for would-be rule breakers.

He yawned again, and was just about to give up for the night and finish in the morning when something ice cold wrapped itself around his magical core and ripped him from the room.

Harry landed hard on something solid in a pitch black room. At least, it would be pitch black to anyone who hadn't ritualistically bonded to the shadow realm. He saw quite clearly that he was in a vaguely familiar room surrounded by seven people, all looking quite nervous.

It lasted only a moment before Albus incanted a quiet, _Lux_.

Candles and torches sprang to life around the room, and the tension rose several notches as everyone got a good look at him.

Harry eyed Albus for a long moment, before turning his attention to Severus, who looked vaguely alarmed at being singled out. Knowing Severus by far the best, Harry could tell that the man was far too young. And Severus would never betray him. _Couldn't _betray him actually, given his vow would kill him if he tried. And Moody and Remus were dead. Well, clearly they weren't, but they had been. Which meant that he'd gone back in time. Or to some kind of alternate dimension.

He turned his attention to the circle in which he stood. It was a runic circle. A summoning circle with a containment spell worked in. He disregarded the containment almost immediately. It was insignificant. The summoning runes though… His eyes widened slightly as he recognized it, and he turned his eyes back to Albus.

"Albus Dumbledore," he said quietly, "where did you learn this ritual?"

* * *

_Haha! I'm evil. I know. As you've likely guessed, the story has now been twisted into an "Albus summons a hero from another universe and it's Harry" story. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. I'll keep working on the sequel, but I don't know when I'll get it posted yet. You can look for it under "An Ill-Conceived Ritual" when I do get around to it._


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